|About a mile in the rear of Sir Bridgnorth was Mrs. Calverley's
pony-carriage, driven by Laura, by whose side was Zephyrus, very smartly
dressed indeed, and wearing a Paris hat, while in the groom's place at
the back, and looking very like a groom himself, sat Tom Tankard. Tom
thought himself rather slighted by being placed in an inferior situation
to the _chef_, but he was obliged to submit, or stay behind.
The first part of the drive was pleasant enough. Zephyrus was charmed
with the carriage and the ponies, and declared the equipage was as
pretty as any to be seen in the Bois de Boulogne. He was likewise
enchanted with Mademoiselle Laura's skill as a whip; and it was a
gratification to him that Tom Tankard, of whom he entertained a secret
jealousy, should be kept in the background.
But this latter circumstance, together with Laura's evident preference
for Zephyrus, vexed Tom, and made him ready to pick a quarrel with
the Frenchman. He soon grew very sullen, and took no part in the
conversation. But this they did not mind. They did not care for his
company, and Laura only brought him because she didn't like to drive out
alone with the Frenchman.
Precisely the reverse of Tom, and full of life and spirit, Zephyrus had
something amusing to say about everything. Laura was quite enchanted.
Never before had she enjoyed so pleasant a drive. But then she had never
before driven anybody except her mistress and the groom, and she didn't
condescend to talk to grooms.
When they reached the heath, Tom shook off his sulkiness, and surveying
the scene, called out:
“Look here, monsieur; here's a famous place for a steeple-chase!”
“A fine place, indeed!” observed Zephyrus. “I should say you could here
have all the dangers you desire.”
“I wouldn't advise you to try the heath, Mr. Tom,” observed Laura. “Sir
Leycester Barfleur lost his life in that dreadful quagmire.”
“But a capital foot-race might be run on the hard turf,” said Tom. “How
say you, monsieur? Shall we have a trial of speed? Half a mile for half
a sov'rin'?”
“Shall I run, mademoiselle?” said Zephyrus.
Laura gave him a look, as much as to say, “By all means; you'll beat
him!”
“Agreed!” cried Zephyrus. “Mademoiselle Laura shall hold the stakes, and
decide.”
So saying, he placed a small piece of gold in her hand, his example
being followed by Tom.
“Our mark shall be yonder tree,” said Zephyrus, pointing to the
shattered oak near which the ladies had been robbed by the gipsies.
“There and back?” asked Tom.
“There and back, of course,” replied Zephyrus.
“Before we start,” said Tom, “let it be clearly understood whoever wins
is to sit beside Miss Laura.”
“Bon!” cried Zephyrus. “I shall be certain to occupy that envied place!”
“Not so certain,” rejoined Tom, with a knowing wink.
Ready in a minute, and in another minute off, at a signal from Laura,
who had great difficulty in holding in the ponies when the start was
made.
There seemed very little doubt that the Frenchman would win, for he
was extremely agile, and ran far more lightly and fleetly than our fat
friend Tom.
But it soon appeared that young Tankard intended some ruse, for he
was still more than a hundred yards from the oak, and sixty or seventy
behind Zephyrus, when he suddenly turned round, and ran back as fast as
he could.
Zephyrus did not at first see what his opponent was about, but the
moment he did, he likewise turned, and set off after young Tankard at
such a pace that even then it seemed probable he would overtake him.
But by dint of extraordinary exertion, Tom managed to reach the
pony-carriage in time to spring into the coveted seat beside Laura, just
as the Frenchman came up.
“Come out, sir!” vociferated Zephyrus; “you've lost!”
“Lost the race--but won the seat!” rejoined Tom, with a triumphant
laugh.
“Come out, I insist!” cried the Frenchman.
To prevent the conflict that seemed imminent, Laura interfered; but
she could not induce Tom to surrender the seat, so she tried to pacify
Zephyrus by giving him the stakes, adding that they should soon be at
Brackley, where a change could be made quietly.
Matters being thus arranged, though by no means to Laura's satisfaction,
she drove on, and had just entered the park when Captain Danvers dashed
through the lodge gate, and soon came up to them.
Apparently surprised at the sight of Laura, he stopped for a moment to
speak to her.
“What are you doing here, Laura?” he inquired.
“My mistress allowed me to drive the pony-carriage to Brackley,
captain,” she replied, rather quickly, for she didn't like to be thus
questioned; “and I brought these gentlemen with me.”
“But don't you know your mistress is dangerously ill?” cried the
captain.
“Not the least idea of it, I assure you, captain, or I shouldn't be
here!” cried Laura, looking dreadfully frightened. “But I'll go back
immediately.”
“I don't think you'll find her alive,” was the captain's consolatory
remark; “but you may be of some service.”
“What is it, sir?” cried Laura; “what is it?”
Captain Danvers, however, paid no attention to the inquiry, but dashed
off as hard as he could to the Hall.
“It's something terrible--I'm sure of it!” said Laura. “I feel ready to
faint.”
“Change places, and I'll drive you back,” said Tom. “It's lucky I'm
here.”
“I don't know what I should have done without Mr. Tom,” said Laura,
as she took his seat, and gave him the reins and whip. “Don't lose any
time.”
“I won't, depend upon it,” rejoined Tom. “The ribbons are in good hands
now they're in mine. Take my advice, dear girl, and don't make yourself
uneasy till you get there. Time enough, then. All's for the best, you
see, monsieur. If you hadn't given up that place, you'd 'a been forced
to give it up, since you can't drive.”
“You're mistaken, sir, I _can_ drive--and very well, too,” rejoined
Zephyrus.
“But not so well as me,” said Tom. “I'll bring you to Ouselcroft in no
time,” he added to Laura.
And he soon got the ponies into such a pace as they had never travelled
before.